No One Mourns the Wicked
by Womarauders
Summary: It just shows when you're wicked, you're left only on your own.


Guess the musical that the title is from!

Disclaimer: I don't own the title or HP

The war was over and Voldemort was dead. Voldemort, the terror of the Wizarding World for what seemed an interminable amount of time, killed by two simple words from the Boy-Who-Lived. No one mourned him. Instead, they rejoiced as if his death had been a particularly good Quidditch match that their favorite team happened to win. Even his most loyal followers, his Death Eaters, had celebrated it over Butterbeer and Firewhisky.

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The Final Battle was the single most fierce and beautiful thing that Tom Marvolo Riddle had ever seen. His Death Eaters mercilessly torturing students, Aurors, and teachers alike on the grounds of Hogwarts. Curses flying everywhere, sending more and more people to the grass below. It was his time to shine, his time to take over the entire Wizarding World.

His scarlet, snake-like eyes sought out the bane of his existence. "The Boy-Who-Lived-That-Would-Soon-Die," he thought cheerfully, "I should get someone to write a poem or song or something about that when I'm Minister of Magic." He found the boy in a fierce duel with Fenrir Greyback. He would not allow that fool to kill what was rightfully his. He whipped out his own wand and quickly muttered the Killing Curse at Greyback. It was indeed a shame to lose such as fine Death Eater, but this was Tom's fight, not Greyback's.

The boy turned to him to show his gratitude, thinking that it was one of the fool Order of the Phoenix members that would help him. He had an odd mixture of shock and horror on his face when he realized who truly stood before him. Even with his hate of Muggles, Tom would have loved a camera to capture the moment. That look, however, quickly turned to one of determination as the boy stepped forward to face his destiny.

"Pity," Tom remarked to the boy facing him with an awful scowl on face, "You would have made a most suitable Death Eater, Potter."

"I will never join you!" the boy spat back.

The battlefield seemed frozen in time as the opponents raised their wands. They bore their eyes into the other, almost daring the other to make the first move.

"Your move, Riddle," the boy challenged.

Tom, never one to pass up a good challenge, obliged and raised the wand that once belonged to his grandfather. After all, he couldn't killed the Boy-Who-Lived with his own wand. The boy glared and mirrored him. The final conflict was about to occur.

"Stupefy!!" the boy yelled. Tom shielded the curse easily, laughing at the boy's pathetic try.

"Crucio!!" Tom screamed, aiming his wand toward the boy. The boy writhed in pain from the effects of the curse. Watching the boy that had caused him in so much pain get tortured was almost a joke for Tom, and he began to laugh.

His laughter filled the field. It seemed as if that was the only sound in the world to all of the fighters there. It was an awful noise, a truly evil cackle that could only could from the truly evil like Tom.

The laughter died suddenly, when Tom heard the boy scream a spell that could rid the Wizarding World of Lord Voldemort forever. The green ray seemed to take an eternity to reach him, but this eternity wasn't even enough time for Tom to react. It tore through him, destroying every pore of his body. It fell limply on the blood stained grass, waking the Wizarding World up from the nightmare it had been living for the past two decades.

The soldiers of the battle sensed the end had come. All of them, Death Eaters and Order members alike, hurried over to the Boy Who Lived to find that he had fulfilled his destiny. The boy stared at Tom's body with both disgust and intrigue as if it was some kind of slimy alien substance.

The Death Eaters knew that this was the time to denounce their former lord. This was the time to claim that he had bewitched them and that it really wasn't them doing the horrible deeds that they had done. If they could convince the Wizarding World of that, they could convince the Wizarding World of almost anything. They would once again be respected members of society and their family's high status wouldn't have to suffer. And, so, the explanations and the pleas for forgiveness began.

The Final Battle was over. It was the end of an era for Harry Potter. There would be no more worrying as to where Voldemort would show up next. There would be no more hunts for his Horcruxes. There would be no more fearing for his life from a mad man that had ruthlessly killed his parents to selfishly save himself from death. There was nothing left but the normal life that he had so strived for.

Harry silently gazed out over the battlefield, seeking out the familiar faces that now lay on the grass, dead. The death rate hadn't been especially high, but the losses had been crucial. Minerva McGonagall had been killed by a wayward curse from Bellatrix Lestrange. He smiled as he remembered how she refused to be removed from the battlefield, stating that she wanted to be there when Lord Voldemort was finally gone. Charlie Weasley had died from a fierce Crucio curse, further weakening the already weak man. Thankfully, Charlie's death had been the only Weasley causality. A Death Eater that thought that the traitor had deserved to die a traitor's death had also killed Severus Snape.

His gaze finally rested on the broken body of his adversary. Harry knew that no one deserved to die like he had, alone and abandoned by his followers. It made no sense to him how people could turn from loyal one moment and treacherous the next. It made Riddle's plight seem almost laughable with the pathetic followers that he had gathered.

He conceded that something should be done to Riddle's remains to remind the Wizarding World that there was a time when terror reigned and one man sought to rule it. With that, he began Voldemort's funeral plot.

Harry muttered a spell under his breath and flicked his wand upward. A hole, about four feet deep, appeared before him. He then chanted another incantation, moving Voldemort's body into the hole. Harry chanted the first spell again backwards, and the hole disappeared with the body as if had never been there.

He again scanned the battleground, but this time looking for a large stone. He found one several yards to the right of where he standing. He summoned it and bringing his wand out again, he smoothed the front of the stone to a shiny flat surface. Harry engraved a message on the surface in memory of his dead enemy:

_**Tom Marvolo Riddle **_

"_**Lord Voldemort"**_

_**Died June 7, 1999**_

_**He Will Not Be Remember As A Hero,**_

_**But He Should Never Be Forgotten**_

Satisfied with his message, he tenderly laid the stone on the grass on top of Voldemort's tomb. He quickly performed a Permanent Sticking Charm, so that Voldemort's legacy will never be moved. After he finished his task, he stood up and began walking towards a new beginning.


End file.
